


Parental Guidance

by The_lazy_eye



Series: Tumblr Prompts [4]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Bad First Date, Blind Date, Enemies to Friends, Fluff, M/M, Their parents set them up on a date, enemies to boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 03:50:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17675909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_lazy_eye/pseuds/The_lazy_eye
Summary: “So, what’ll it be? Shrimp, lobster? Maybe a little bit of trout?” Richie asks from behind the menu.“I hate seafood,” Stan clips, not even looking up from his menu. The options without seafood are limited, Richie knows that from experience.“The chicken Kiev is pretty good. I’ve had it before. This is actually a restaurant my family has come to a few times over the years, so I’m pretty familiar with the menu,” Richie tries. He glances over his own menu to look at Stan, gauge his reaction, but Stan doesn’t budge. He only flips the page and continues reading. “You know, you’re not making this easy.”He’s almost shocked when Stan opens his mouth to reply, except it isn’t exactly the answer Richie was hoping for. “I’m not trying to.”“Okay, then.” And that’s that. The both look over the menu in silence. Richie would find it awkward if it weren’t for the stubbornness he can feel hardening in his chest. Fuck this. If Stan wants to be an asshole, then what the fuck ever.





	Parental Guidance

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts for the Positive IT Rarepare Celebration (PIRC) blog!
> 
> We hate each other but our parents set us up on this date so FINE'

****The door to the restaurant swings open for Richie and he steps inside with all grace and confidence as the bomb squad walking in to an active explosive situation. He knows this entire thing is going to tank, but he also knows that he can handle it. There’s nothing quite like going down with the grace of a thousand butterflies.

Richie sees him almost immediately. He’s hard to miss. He’s the cleanest thing in this joint and it’s a pretty classy place. Plus, Richie would recognize that annoying mop of golden curls anywhere. He’s only had to look at it every single year for his whole life. No matter what, they were always in the same class together and no matter what, Richie always ended up being annoyed to the moon and back. And that fucking says something because normally Richie was the annoying one. But with this one? The two of them just fed off each other.

Richie has known Stanley Uris for almost this entire life and he’s hated him the whole fucking time. There’s not a temptress on Earth that could talk Richie into getting along with Stan. He was the class president but Richie preferred to think of him as the certified pretentious dick wad. Stan is a rule follower, a stickler, and above all else, a fucking killjoy. He shuts down every joke Richie makes, corrects people’s grammar for no fucking reason, and he used to snitch on the playground when they were little. Richie still hasn’t completely gotten over the time he got detention for sneaking off into the treeline to climb trees. He would have been just fucking fine had Stan not wandered into the woods to check out the commotion.

Richie crosses the restaurant and takes his seat across from Stan. They do not exchange hellos or pleasantries. They do not pass go. They do not collect $200. Instead, they both send each other heavy glares and pick up their menus.

This is a record scratch freeze frame kind of moment.

If someone told that Richie last week that he’d be on a dinner date with Stanley Uris he would laugh laughed right in their face. But here he is and there’s really no going back now. Well, there could be but he won’t only, _only_ , because it would break his mother’s heart. How could he say no to her when she came bursting into the kitchen full of excitement exclaiming _Richie, I set you up with the most wonderful boy today!_ Should she have done it without asking Richie first? No, probably not. But he couldn’t deny her the excitement and support flowing from every word. She might not always understand his bisexuality but that never stops her from being enthusastic. She just wants to see her son happy. Even after he found out that it was with the one boy in his class he hated the most.

So now, here he is.

“So, what’ll it be? Shrimp, lobster? Maybe a little bit of trout?” Richie asks from behind the menu.

“I hate seafood,” Stan clips, not even looking up from his menu. The options without seafood are limited, Richie knows that from experience.

“The chicken Kiev is pretty good. I’ve had it before. This is actually a restaurant my family has come to a few times over the years, so I’m pretty familiar with the menu,” Richie tries. He glances over his own menu to look at Stan, gauge his reaction, but Stan doesn’t budge. He only flips the page and continues reading. “You know, you’re not making this easy.”

He’s almost shocked when Stan opens his mouth to reply, except it isn’t exactly the answer Richie was hoping for. “I’m not trying to.”

“Okay, then.” And that’s that. The both look over the menu in silence. Richie would find it awkward if it weren’t for the stubbornness he can feel hardening in his chest. Fuck this. If Stan wants to be an asshole, then what the fuck ever.

The waitress comes by to take their order. Fettuccini Shrimp for Richie and lemon chicken for Stan. Richie kind of feels bad for her. She’s really nice, a sweet waitress, really. He’s gonna tip 20% for sure. But neither of them could help themselves when she asked how their date was going and they both said _it’s not a date_ at the same damn time.

To be fair, it does look like a date. There’s a single rose on the table and they’re both dressed up. Well, Stan more so than Richie. He’s got his hair combed back, a nice button up on with matching suspenders and a pair of khaki pants. He might even look good if he took that stick out of his ass. Richie on the other hand was wearing jeans _without_ any holes in them and a solid back t-shirt on under his usual bomber jacket.

After she scurries off, they still don’t talk. Instead, ever the gentleman, Stan gets his phone out. He hides behind it the same way he hid behind his menu and it pisses Richie off to no end. Look at him, with his perfectly manicured hands and his pressed shirt and his _fucking suspenders_. He probably thinks he’s so much better than Richie. Whatcha doing on your phone, Stan? Too good for this? Got better things you could be doing?

Richie glares down the table as he absently rips the corners off his napkin. He’s got about ten small pieces in front of him when he gets an idea. Is it his best idea? Probably not. But that’s never stopped him before.

Richie keeps his eyes trained on Stan as he picks up a piece, dunks it in his water, and balls it up. Without thinking it through, beans it across the table. It’s a perfect shot, landing on the skin of Stan’s neck, right above his collarbone.

“Can you maybe fucking not?” Stan practically screeches as he frantically wipes the wet napkin off himself.

“Oh, come on Stanny my manny, live a little,” ripping off another piece of his napkin and dunking it in his water. He doesn’t aim this one at Stan. Instead, he aims it at the couple a few tables over. 

“No, you’re going to get us kicked out,” Stan hisses, leaning over the table, smacking Richie’s hand and snatching the rest of the napkin pieces off the table. “You’ve lost your napkin privileges. God, you’re intolerable.”  

“And you’re a fucking killjoy,” Richie spits.

“At least I’m not an obnoxious bastard,” Stan spits back and now it’s a full-blown glaring contest. Stan’s phone is discarded on the table and Richie’s partially convinced that if they weren’t at a fancy restaurant Stan would have taken a swing by now.

Well. This is going just about as well as he expected it to go. Poor Maggie. How the hell is he supposed to break this to her? _Yeah, ma, the date went great! He took a swing at me but he missed, so I think we’re gonna go out again. Give him a second shot to knock me right on the nose, maybe break my glasses._ Oh, yep. He’s grabbed his phone again. Great. Whatever. Richie is only here for the food, anyway. And to make his mother smile. But at this rate he’s going one for two.

Richie was snapped out of his thoughts as a glass of water was set down in front of him, then one in front of Stan. “Your drinks, gentlemen.” When Richie gets a decent look at their waitress, he can really appreciate how beautiful she looks under the dim lighting. She has a blond ponytail, a round face, and deep brown eyes. Her makeup, too, is phenomenal. Richie is always impressed by the way girls do their makeup. He can hardly draw a straight line on a piece of paper but here this girl is, drawing eyeliner on her face sharp enough to kill a man.

“Sweetheart, there ain’t nothing gentle about me,” Richie says, voice honeysuckle smooth. He sends her a wink and watches as she glances at Stan and then brings her hand up to cover her smile. Stan’s attention snaps up from his phone as Richie leans on his palm and sends her a _look_. “I’m a certified human disaster.”

Their waitress just giggles gently and assures them their food will be out shortly. As she walks away, Richie takes a second to appreciate the back of her, the way her hips swing as she walks and how her ponytail dances on her shoulders.

“Stop ogling our waitress, you pig,” Stan sneers and Richie can’t even find it in himself to fight back.

“Jealous, Stanley?” Richie asks, all the condescension in the world dripping from his voice. “If you’re not gonna flirt with me, I’ll find someone who will. Bet she’s a better lay, anyway.”

Stan goes bright red at this, slamming his hand down on the table. “You’re fucking disgusting, do you know that?”

“What? Can’t handle the fire?”

“I don’t want to handle the fire. I never did!” He looks ready to blow his top, the tips of his ears are tinted red as he takes steady, calming breaths. The look in his eyes screams murder and Richie knows for sure that Stan would take that swing if he could. “You got one thing right, though. You are a human disaster.”

“Born and raised, baby,” Richie says back. He leans back in his chair, partially to look cool but also to put more distance between him and Stan, and crosses his arms behind his head.

“I’m not your baby.”

“You couldn’t handle it even if you wanted it, _baby_.”

Richie swear to fucking god that Stan growls. He takes one, two steadying breaths and then picks his phone back up and starts typing furiously. And Richie? Well, Richie spends the rest of the time it takes until the food comes just glaring at Stan. Boring his eyes into Stan’s entire fucking soul. He keeps his cool better than Stan but he has disdain crawling under his skin.

He can see the steam practically radiating off of Stan, then cooling as he seems to calm down. Whatever he’s doing, whoever he’s talking to, seems to be taking the edge off. Richie swears he even sees the ghost of a smile once his face once or twice. It takes the edge off Richie, too. He goes from glaring to just looking. His shoulders fall from his ears to a nice, relaxed state, and eventually the waitress brings their food around.

Richie sends her off with a sly compliment and another wink and soon they’re eating in silence. If Richie wasn’t so resigned to his fate, this would be the most awkward date he’s ever been on.

Eventually their waitress comes back around. She tries not to be obvious in the way she looks them both over, but it’s clear in her eyes that she’s just as uncomfortable as they are. Stan doesn’t even look up as his food is set down in front of him but he does utter a pretty sincere thank you and Richie is almost shocked. It’s the most emotions he’s ever heard in Stan’s voice before. Richie smiles at her and sends her another wink, but this one seems to have the opposite effect. She sends him a half smile, half grimace and wishes them a good meal before retreating. Well, there goes plan B.

They eat in relative silence, neither even bother to ask the other how their food is. Richie doesn’t care if Stan likes his saucy chicken, he only cares about his shrimp and his pasta and getting out of here as fast as possible.

In fact, he’s in such a rush to finish up that he brings his glass of water to his face too quickly. He misses his mouth entirely and dumps half of the glasses contents on to his shirt and his laps, effectively making it look like he pissed himself. He reflexively stands up, the motion catching Stan’s attention. It’s quiet for a moment, other than a couple curses Richie utters under his breath, and then Stan practically doubles over in laughter. It’s a loud, boisterous thing at first, before he slaps his hand over his mouth. Then it’s shaking shoulders and muffled cackles.

“You look like you pissed yourself!”

Richie feels hot anger flash through his arms, his chest, his neck, for a few seconds but it fades almost as quickly as it came because when he looks down even he has to admit, yeah it really fucking looks like he pissed himself.

He falls back into his seat, small giggles flowing through him now as his waitress comes by with napkins, fussing over the mess as everyone involved apologizes profusely. It’s clean up soon and even though Richie’s got a cloth towel on his lap now the two still can’t stop giggling.

“I didn’t realize we were still in kindergarten, Tozier. Want me to call your mom and ask her to bring your spare diapers?” Stan says around a mouthful of chicken.

“Don’t bother,” Richie says, noodles hanging out of his mouth, “I like it.”

“I bet you do. You’ve got one of those baby kinks?” Stan makes a lewd moaning noise as quietly as he can. “Oh, mommy, I’ve soiled my diaper again! Please come clean it up.”

“You know it, Stan. I’m all about that mommy life. I call Mrs. Kaspbrak every evening and have her whisper crazy, over controlling things in my ear.”

Stan throws his head back and laughs from his gut. “Oh my god, she’s so crazy!”

“I like ‘em crazy, Stanny,” Richie punctuates it with a shoulder shimmy and a smirk, which only sends Stan further off the rails. It’s contagious, and Richie laughs, too. It takes them a solid ten minutes to calm down, either of them kept dissolving into laughter, starting another fit of giggles.

When it’s finally over and all that’s left are smiles and light breaths, Richie looks up to find Stan looking at him. He doesn’t look away immediately and they hold some kind of weird, non-malicious eye contact that Richie can’t entirely make sense of. There’s been a shift in the air he hadn’t even noticed, something breaking in the atmosphere and changing the way they both felt. Or at least the way Richie felt. He can’t even remember his emotions for 20 minutes ago. He’d been so annoyed, but how? Sure, Stan can be a huge piece of shit, but how the hell did it come back to this? Richie can’t really understand it, neither his annoyance or his current calmer, almost bubbly state.

“So, Stan. What’s up with this arranged date, anyway?” Richie asks. It’s a feeble attempt to derails his own thoughts. He knows their parents set them up, but he also knows that it wasn’t entirely Richie’s mom’s idea. Maggie’s never pulled this kind of stunt before.

“My mom’s just trying to be supportive,” Stan says back, shrugging. He’s obviously trying to put out some kind of indifferent attitude but there’s something deeper there. Richie can see it.

“So, she does this kind of thing often then?”

Stan pauses for a second, taking a bite out of his food and considering his response before he answers. “No. this is the first time.”

“Hm, interesting.”

“It’s kind of nice,” Stan says. He’s got a small smile on his face as he talks. “She’s trying.”

“Trying to get her son laid?” Richie asks, waggling his eyebrows and shimmying his shoulders a little bit. Stan laughs again and Richie lights up. Every time he gets Stan to laugh he chalks it down as a mental victory. I, Richard Tozier, have made the senior class tight ass laugh. It only took twelve years, but it finally happened. It’s like a mental victory dance.

“No, you’re gross. Trying to accept me, I guess.” And wow, Richie was not ready for that. The smile falls from his face immediately and the shimmying is gone.

“It took her a while. That’s why I didn’t shoot this whole thing down immediately. She looked so excited when she came home. ‘Oh, Stan, I met the nicest woman at Freeze’s today! She has a son in your grade and I thought, oh how wonderful!’” Stan’s voice goes into a high falsetto as he recounts his mother’s words. Richie can’t help the way he laughs again, he doesn’t mean to but he figures it’s okay because Stan laughs, too. “I couldn’t say no to that!”

“Man, I couldn’t, either. Why do you think I’m here!” Richie gestures to himself and then to their surroundings. Stan makes a face and a noise of agreeance but his eyes betray any malice. Those light brown eyes are lit up, the corners crinkled in a smile that encompasses all of his features.

“Moms, man,” he says and Richie agrees.

He raises his water to the center of the table and says, “To Mrs. Uris.” Stan raises his also and they clink.

The spend the rest of their dinner idly chatting. Richie shares his own coming out story with Stan. It isn’t spectacular, but he almost feels an obligation to. Stan shared his, it’s only right. Solidarity and all. Besides, Richie’s isn’t as rough, either. Maggie and Went baked him a fucking cake. Talking to Stan just makes him appreciate them so much more.

He feels a bit of empathy there. No kid should have to fear rejection from their own parents, and from the sounds of it, there’s plenty of fear and rejection in the Uris household. Stan’s father still hasn’t come around and apparently he’s always been that way. Always placing high, unattainable standards on Stan and never being happy even when they’re met. Mrs. Uris is at least a little more supportive but it can’t be easy.

Before either of them realize it, the dinner is over and Richie is accepting the bill from the waitress. He pays with his mom’s card and makes sure to leave a generous tip, both as a thank you and an apology to their waitress. It can’t be easy dealing with such a hot and cold table.

“Man, you’re not too bad. Maybe we should do this again, sometime,” Richie says offhandedly. He doesn’t intend for the implication to fall but when it does, he can’t find himself minding too much. Stan’s not bad. He’s just got a little too much going on upstairs. Richie can relate to that; his own mind is unstoppable. He feels a small, barely there spark of hope light in his chest when Stan looks up.

“I’m only here because my mom asked me to come,” Stan says, eyes narrowing. Well. There goes that idea. Richie clenches the pen in his hand as he signs the check.

“Fuck you, Stan. At least I was trying! My mom paid for this whole thing out of her own pocket. Excuse me for trying to make it not a complete waste of her money,” Richie spits. He can’t hide the disgust from his voice. He doesn’t look up from the table, eyes focused on the swirling pattern of the wooden table top. Fuck Stan. Honestly. Who does he think he is? Richie spent all night trying. Sure, there were bumps but at least he had some basic human decency. At least he wasn’t a rude piece of shit who thought he was better than everyone else. At least he didn’t look down his nose at anyone or anything that was different than him. Sure, he’s got some issues at home but who doesn’t? That doesn’t give him an excuse to act like a jackass for no fucking reason.

“Richie –”

“Save it,” Richie pushing up out of his seat and shrugging his jacket on. “Sorry for ruining your evening.”

And with that he was gone, walking out of the restaurant.

Fuck that noise. Richie can’t believe he almost came around to the idea of Stanley Uris. He’s the kind of boy who’ll never change. He’s always going to be a stick in the mud on a high horse. Richie doesn’t know how anyone runs with that boy. He doesn’t know how Eddie can stomach being lab partners with him or why the fuck the student body elected him president. He’s pretentious.

The second he’s in the door he’s immediately on the couch. The TV turns on but it’s all just background noise. How dare Stan. How dare he spend half the date not even talking and then make Richie think he’s something worth a second look. How dare he pull Richie around like that, make him double take so hard he could sue for whiplash. He toyed with Richie. Made him think hey, maybe this isn’t so bad, and then immediately, _immediately_ went back to his same old shit.

Maggie doesn’t bother him, thank god. She saw him come in and gave him a sympathetic smile before heading upstairs. Good woman, that Maggie, because Richie needs fucking _space_ right now. It takes a good hour of television to relax the tension from his shoulders. By the time he’s feeling calm, relaxed even, there’s a sharp knock on his door.

Richie figures his parents don’t hear it so he hoists himself off the couch and heads toward the door.

“Tozier Residence, Derry’s local – oh,” Richie’s sentence falls short as takes in the person on his doorstops. Khakis, suspenders, and all, it’s one Stanley Uris.

“Hi,” he says and it almost sounds forced. He’s got a nervous look on his face, one Richie’s sure he’s never seen before, and is clutching a bouquet of flowers in his right hand. He opens his mouth twice and Richie can’t help but be amused. The shock of anger that passed through him quickly fades because Stan obviously didn’t think this through.

“Can I help you?”

Stan fumbles again for a second before blurting out, “I’m sorry!”

Richie, ever the jackass, just gives him a devious smile and crosses his arms. He leans up against the door frame and watches as the most put together boy in the senior class falls apart on his doorstep. “I’m sorry, Stan. I have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Something passes across Stan’s face and Richie’s sure that he’s going to turn around, get in his car, and leave. He doesn’t. Instead, he grips the flowers just a little tighter stands up just a little straighter. “I’m new at this.”

“What? New at being a decent human being?”

“Can you just shut the fuck up and let me talk before I leave?”

Richie’s tempted to open his mouth again, ask Stan to kindly make his way off of the Tozier property, but he doesn’t. He’s invested now. His curiosity gets the better of him and he offers Stan a gentle hug and motions for him to keep talking.

“I’m new at this,” he says again and Richie nods in a _yes, we’ve covered this_ kind of way. “I haven’t been out for long and I didn’t think I would actually like you once I talked to you. You’re Richie, the class dumbass –”

“– Ouch –”

“– and I didn’t even want to be there in the first place. So when you said we should do it again, I got scared. And then you stormed out and I felt really bad. And I have no idea what I’m doing. So, here I guess.” And then he’s suddenly shoving the flowers into Richie’s chest.

It’s quiet for a moment as Richie takes them and looks between the bouquet and Stan. He’s not quite sure what to say, his brain maybe short circuiting because _what the fuck just happened?_

“I’m sorry I ruined your evening. I’ll go.”

Stan’s about halfway down the walkway when Richie calls for him to wait and catches up with him, gently taking Stan’s arm in his hand. “You didn’t ruin my evening. You made an already pretty shitty dinner date into something kind of fun.”

Stan looks up at him and Richie can see that faint smile ghosting on the corner of his lips. At once, he gets an overwhelming urge to lean down and capture Stan’s lips in a kiss. He doesn’t, though. Too much, too fast. Instead, he settles for a gentle smile of his own.

“I’d like to do it again sometime. You know, if the offer still stands,” Stan says. His voice is soft, only a hair above a whisper, and Richie smiles just a little bigger.

“It still stands.”

“Cool. I’ll see you in school on Monday?” Stan asks and even though it sounds like a deflection, Richie knows what it means under the surface. He nods and watches as Stan goes to his car and pulls off down the street. He lingers in the walkway for a few more moments, watching the tail lights disappear.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Has anyone seen that show on MTV called parental guidance? It was like a 2000s era show? No? 
> 
> I'm old I guess. 
> 
> Anyway this was super, super fun to write. I love love love me some Stozier. 
> 
> As always, go look at oldbuybones' stuff. She beta'd this. She's amazing. Yes. 
> 
> Send me love and maybe whatever else at reddie-for-anything.tumblr.com


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